


baby doll

by reginagalaxia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, Riding, They love each other so much help, aged-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginagalaxia/pseuds/reginagalaxia
Summary: takahiro wants to spoil issei after a long week at work.





	baby doll

**Author's Note:**

> commission for [Cheesy](https://twitter.com/chzyshenanigans?lang=en)! Thank you so much <3
> 
> ...and this is my first matsuhana fic in...awhile. hope y'all enjoy!

It’s been a long work week for both Takahiro and Issei, and there is nothing more appealing than the idea of some free time. Takahiro is home first today, and grumbles in the quiet of their shared apartment when Issei sends him a text apologizing, saying he’ll be home later than planned. While their normal plans involve sweatpants and ramen, followed by lazy making out and falling asleep on the couch at nine p.m., Takahiro wants tonight to be at least a little out of the ordinary.

There’s nothing inherently special about the date he’s chosen, just that it’s located in that drought in the year without holidays, and way too many deadlines to process. Takahiro doesn’t bother with turning the main lights on; it’s just him, and the way the streetlights make their apartment glow is much too aesthetically pleasing to ruin. The windows in this place were at least 80% of why Takahiro fell for it, and the remaining 20% was the fact that it had running water and insulation. He’s a simple man. A small smile plays on his lips when he remembers Issei laughing at his careful criteria before telling their agent that yes, they’ll take this one.

Takahiro undoes his tie, while gazing out across the sprawl of the city, a fan of the din now that he’s home and away from it. There’s the barest suggestion of gold still clinging to what horizon is visible from the skyline, but the inky black of night has all but taken over.

While there is no real rush for Takahiro, since Issei won’t be back for an hour yet, he quickly undoes his shirt buttons and chucks the shirt in the hamper. His belt follows suit, and it’s not long before he’s just in his briefs, a little chilly, but the shiver running up his spine has nothing to do with temperature.

He roots around a little in their shared closet, finding the shiny black bag he had hidden inside a seldom-worn suit, and pulling it out. It’s a nondescript bag, as they often tend to be from these places, and it makes Takahiro smile. He and Issei had talked about this several times before, but there’s something about the element of surprise that will make this even better for them both.

He reaches his hand into the bag and carefully withdraws the tissue-wrapped lingerie and makes his way to the bathroom. Takahiro’s torn between getting dressed in the bedroom and then checking himself out, but at the same time, part of the appeal of this, for him, is the act of putting the lingerie on.

The first thing he does is pull out the baby doll, hooking his fingers in the straps so he can see how the soft mesh and lace drapes. He picked this one in particular for its very bold, plunging neckline, lace-up back, and the fun combination of deep rose and black. Wanting to follow what he perceives is the _correct_ order to get dressed, Takahiro gently lays the baby doll back into the tissue and wriggles out of his briefs. If he’s going to be honest, he’s turned on by the thought of getting into this set; he can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like to welcome Issei home like this.

Takahiro slips into the satin panties, a matching rose to the baby doll, trimmed with the same black lace. He tightens the black satin ribbons on either hip, evening out the loops so that there is more than enough ribbon to tumble artfully down his thighs. The mirror is close enough for him to peer in and admire himself, but he wants to hold out for the full experience. His hands slide over the satin, following the curve of his ass, and it makes goosebumps erupt all over his body.

Before Takahiro continues this almost reverential process, he checks his phone. There’s a new text from Issei with an updated arrival time. Thirty minutes are now all that separates Takahiro and what promises to be an unforgettable night. He can’t wait to see Issei’s face.

The next step is to carefully slip into the baby doll, wriggling a little so that it sits right on his chest. Both straps sit comfortably on Takahiro’s shoulders, and there’s more than a little stirring in his gut when he reaches for the final piece: a long, black, satin ribbon that he will tie around his neck.

When Takahiro steps in front of the full-length mirror, his mouth goes dry. He’s always been fairly confident and comfortable in his own skin, but this—this makes him feel so sexy and so desirable. He ties a small, tidy bow just beneath his adam’s apple, letting the free ends of the ribbon rest in the groove between his pectoral muscles.

Issei is going to _die_.

There’s still time before he arrives, however, so Takahiro cleans up the tissue and the bag, and tidies up the bed. For a few minutes, he debates whether to answer the door and give Issei a heart attack right off the bat, or whether he should just artfully drape himself on the bed and wait for Issei to make his way in, and _then_ suffer a heart attack. Both options are very tempting, and have their own pros and cons, but Takahiro decides to go for the latter. Next time, he can answer the door wearing just an apron, or something similarly hilarious.

Issei sends one last text, promising to be there in ten minutes, reminding Takahiro that he can’t wait to see him. No matter how often they exchange any sort of sentimental messages, Takahiro’s heart still skips a beat, and it warms him to his toes. He loves Issei so much, and can’t wait to just be next to him, to spoil him after such a rough few days.

Never has ten minutes seemed so long. A current of anticipation hums beneath Takahiro’s skin, but he stays reclined against the criminal amount of pillows on their bed. It takes all of his self control to stop from fidgeting with the ribbons and lace, to stop himself from getting started without Issei and his deft hands there to help him along. Not to say that Takahiro is being completely lazy; he’s already set out the lube and a condom on their night table, easily within reach.

It feels like an age has passed by the time Takahiro hears the sound of Issei’s large collection of keychains hitting the metal plate beneath their keyhole. He smiles gently at the familiarity of it, looking forward at the framed picture of the two of them on the wall.

Takahiro hears Issei’s dramatic sigh follow the click of the door shutting, but stays put. He’s going to wait here as patiently as he can.

“I’m home! Takahiro?” Issei calls, his subtle frown almost audible.

“Welcome back, Issei.”

“Where are you? I’m surprised that you’re not trying to chew my arm off to get your hands on these cream puffs.”

Takahiro’s eyes open wide. What a man, honestly. Bringing Takahiro cream puffs from that bakery by his work. Those will have to wait, however. His rapidly increasing pulse will keep his mind off sweets for the time being.

“Can you put them in the fridge?” Takahiro asks, voice as neutral as he can make it.

“Are you okay? Did a demon possess your body? Should I call an exorcist?”

Takahiro can’t help himself and laughs. “No, I’m in the bedroom. Get in here, nerd.”

The footsteps approach quickly, and Issei rounds the corner into the room, mouth open like he’s poised to speak when his eyes land on Takahiro. Even with the lights off, the streetlamps cast enough illumination on the bed to make Takahiro’s outfit very obvious.

“Hello there, sailor,” Takahiro purrs, raising an eyebrow. The immediate satisfaction of physically seeing Issei crumble from the inside makes the monetary investment in nice lingerie more than worth it. Takahiro carefully watches Issei’s eyes rake over the length of his body, breathing shallowly, hands stuttering on the tie he’s trying to take off.

Issei looks like a vision in his black, tailored suit, and Takahiro isn’t really going to deny himself a generous look. His eyes linger on Issei’s now-tousled hair, the breadth of his shoulders, all the way down to his trim waist and down those long legs that have no business being clothed.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Issei exhales, and whips the tie off. His eyes lift to meet Takahiro’s. “Can I turn the light on?”

Takahiro sits up and rearranges himself so that he’s kneeling at the edge of the bed. “I suppose you could. Might take away from the dramatic moonlight or whatever, but I’ll allow it.”

Issei gives him a lopsided grin, sliding out of his suit jacket and hanging it up on the door before crossing the room. He turns on one of the lamps rather than the overhead light, tilting his head in question.

“Does that preserve the aesthetic of the evening?” he asks, stepping over in front of Takahiro with a determined look in his eyes. His pupils are already blown, lips curling dangerously enough to make Takahiro’s stomach twist. Who allowed Issei to be so damn handsome, honestly?

They haven’t even really gotten started, and already Takahiro feels like his heart is going to burst from his chest. Issei cradles his face, kissing him slowly, thoroughly, _passionately_ , drawing the breath from Takahiro’s lungs. He slides his hands around Issei’s hips, untucking his button down, then his undershirt, so he can run his fingers over Issei’s taut stomach.

Issei’s fingers wander down Takahiro’s neck, as the kisses deepen, lingering on the satin bow. If Takahiro’s not mistaken, Issei’s breath catches— _good_.

“You look so fucking good,” Issei says reverently, pulling back to admire Takahiro in the light now.

“The pink matches my eyes,” Takahiro says with a straight face, pressing his lips to stop from laughing.

“Yeah, your eyes, definitely.” Issei toys with the hemline of the baby doll, and there’s the barest hint of a tremble that Takahiro can feel.

Takahiro closes his eyes when Issei cards a hand through his hair and says, “I shouldn’t be surprised that you bought something that matches your hair, honestly.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Nope, not at all.” Issei presses a kiss to Takahiro’s forehead, resting there for a second. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Takahiro pointedly ignores his heart’s sudden inability to do its job.

“Have you seen your legs?” he replies, threading his fingers through Issei’s.

“Mm, they are pretty good. I guess that’s a fair trade.” Issei shucks his pants off, leaving them on the ground, and Takahiro pulls him down onto the bed. They topple in a pile of limbs, since neither of them really thought about the logistics of their positioning, but they find each other easily enough again, surging forward to resume the slow, intense kisses of earlier.

Takahiro takes the lead, guiding Issei onto his back among the mess of pillows. Issei reaches for him, but makes a face when he realizes how awkwardly his neck is positioned.

“Do we _really_ —” he starts, yanking out a decorative pillow that is neither aesthetically pleasing nor comfortable. “—need this many on the bed? I mean, what the fuck is this?” Takahiro laughs, swatting it out of Issei’s hand and onto the floor. He climbs on to straddle Issei’s waist, sighing when Issei’s hands immediately start rubbing his thighs.

“Listen, _you_ bought that garbage pillow because it was, and I _quote_ —” Takahiro’s words die in his throat when Issei curls a hand around the back of his neck and yanks him down into a kiss.

He’s breathless when he asks Takahiro, “What were you saying?”

“I was saying,” Takahiro starts again, matter-of-factly. “ _You_ said—”

There’s no way that Takahiro can ever say no to the heat of Issei’s mouth against his, insistent but gentle, tongue slipping past his lips to tease just a little. When he flops back among the pillows, his lips are shining, red, framing his mischievous grin _so_ well. Takahiro realizes that this whole throw pillow argument is best left for later. He bends forward and starts undoing Issei’s shirt buttons one by one, drawing apart the fabric slowly, but surely. It’s not hard to feel the intensity of Issei’s gaze, but Takahiro purposely ignores it and continues on with his task.

He looks up briefly to smirk and say, “You’re allowed to touch, you know.”

Issei nods like he’s dazed, and his fingers return to the hem of the baby doll, letting the fabric slip between them. His movement is limited, until Takahiro’s finished with the buttons and they both make a concerted effort to get the stupid button-down off Issei. Takahiro makes quick work of the undershirt, succeeding in not catching Issei’s earrings, for once.

In the brief pause after Issei’s shirt has landed on the bookcase, Issei is staring up at Takahiro, who is straddling his lap, eyeing him hungrily. Issei’s hands are under the soft mesh, rubbing circles into the small of Takahiro’s back. He rolls his hips a little, mostly for his own benefit, since he’s half-hard already, but Issei makes a quiet sound and bites his lip. Then they’re kissing again, and Issei falls back against the mattress with Takahiro is his arms. There’s none of the earlier gentleness, just the increasing sense of urgency from the friction between them.

Sparks dance everywhere that Issei touches along Takahiro’s skin, and he moans embarrassingly when presses and drags a finger along his crack, over the satin.

He manages to find enough composure to say, “Impatient, are we?” Issei smacks his ass lightly in response.

“Not as impatient as _you_.”

“Slander.” Takahiro nudges Issei’s chin up so he can kiss and mouth along his neck, just like Issei likes, making a messy trail. It’s hard not to smile against the warm skin when Issei is squirming impatiently, one hand fisted in the mesh at Takahiro’s side, the other in his hair. Takahiro fully intends on making Issei fall apart, to make him forget how to use that smart mouth of his.

Just to overload his senses, Takahiro licks at a nipple while slipping his hand beneath Issei’s briefs, just over his hip. He knows how maddeningly close he is to Issei’s dick, but he’s not going to give him the satisfaction just yet. They’ll get there.

“Fuck, Takahiro—” Issei whispers, eyes fluttering closed.

Not that he’d ever admit it in the heat of the moment, but there is nothing that turns Takahiro on more than seeing Issei give himself into pleasure. He’s beautiful normally, but _fuck_ is he gorgeous like this, arching, seeking out more of Takahiro’s mouth. All Takahiro can really do is oblige. He’s human, after all.

He drops kisses all the way down Issei’s stomach, satin ribbon trailing just behind, mouth lingering just above Issei’s waistband long enough for him to crack one eye open and stare Takahiro down.

Takahiro laughs, slipping the briefs off as he does. “I’m not gonna make you suffer.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Issei grumbles good-naturedly, reaching down to smooth Takahiro’s hair.

“I promise,” Takahiro says, rubbing his smooth cheek against Issei’s dick and gazing up with a wicked grin. Issei’s entire body shudders, so Takahiro shifts to the side to kiss the inside of Issei’s thighs then, pressing into them with his hands, kneading like the asshole cat that he is. There’s enough room on the bed for Takahiro to lift up on his knees and arch his back obscenely just for show. He’s already in lingerie, so he may as well go the extra mile to be as on display as he can. It’s fun for him, but it’s also extremely satisfying to watch all of Issei’s resolve crumbling in real time.

Issei’s eyes are glazed over as he strains to see Takahiro, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s not the only one affected, not by a long shot; Takahiro is aching to ride him, but he wants to drag this out a little, at least. The whimpers tumbling from Issei’s mouth are more than enough to inspire Takahiro into paying attention to his dick, which has very tempting precome pearling at the tip.

He cocks his head curiously, like he’s never seen this before—which is the dirtiest lie in the entire world—and dips his finger into it, smearing it all over the head. Issei swears, and loudly, visibly struggling to keep his knees apart. He’s so hard, his dick curving nicely over his trembling abs, and Takahiro can see his fists clenching and unclenching in the sheets.

It’s cute because Issei will pretend like he doesn’t want to grab Takahiro’s hair and tug, but they both know that’s exactly how this will end. Not one to deny his patient lover any longer, Takahiro presses a deceptively sweet kiss to the shaft of Issei’s dick just to hear him curse, then takes the head into his mouth. He likes blow jobs to be good and _messy_ , which just means that he’s about to take a long time properly slicking up the head, generous with spit and swirls of his tongue.

For most normal people, smirking while actively blowing someone is a near-impossible feat, but Takahiro has it down to an art. He can’t help it when Issei’s fingers twitch over to him, first twisting strands of his hair before burying his hand entirely into it. His touch is still gentle while Takahiro works his way down his dick, bit by bit, but it surely won’t last long.

Even though he’s wholly absorbed by the heady scent of Issei, the weight of him on his tongue, Takahiro’s on fire, straining against the delicate material of the panties. He’s surely soaked them by this point, and who knows if they’ll survive the night. It’s taking all of Takahiro’s self control to keep from palming himself right now. He’s so hard that it aches, but he’ll wait his turn.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Takahiro takes Issei’s dick as far as he can, eyes watering from the effort. He’s not exactly small, but Takahiro isn’t a quitter, either, and never has been. He waits for Issei’s fingers to tighten in his hair, tugging on his scalp, before he pulls off slowly. With one hand holding the base, Takahiro picks up a slow pace, bobbing up and down, letting out quiet, satisfied moans around Issei’s dick.

“That feels _amazing_ ,” Issei grits out, and his hips tilt with the arch of his back. Takahiro’s hands fly out to push his hips back down because he really can’t handle that much right now. “Sorry!”

Takahiro waves him off and picks up the pace. If Issei’s making whole sentences, he’s nowhere near where Takahiro wants him to be. The speed is to Issei’s liking, as he starts choking on the syllables of Takahiro’s name, panting breaths, and _squirming_. It’s almost impossible to keep his hips down now, so Takahiro does the best that he can, so pleased with Issei’s slow descent into madness, hollowing his cheeks more to really make Issei feel it.

It’s hardly been a few minutes of this jaw-straining effort, but Issei’s trying to tell Takahiro that’s he about to come, and his thighs are quivering. Takahiro sinks down again, flattening his tongue, pressing down as he drags his lips up the length of Issei’s dick.

When Issei comes in Takahiro’s mouth, it’s with a low, drawn-out moan, back arched, hand yanking on Takahiro’s hair almost painfully, but it feels incredible. Takahiro tries to swallow everything, but he has to wipe some come from his chin with the back of his hand. He’s smeared with come and spit, but he’s grinning like he’s just won the lottery. Issei, meanwhile, is a bag of bones, sprawled out across the bed with a dopey smile on his face. He _looks_ thoroughly fucked, and his hair is already starting to stick to his sweaty forehead.

“Don’t look so damn smug,” he chastises Takahiro, gesturing to get him closer. Takahiro obliges, crawling up Issei’s body slowly, letting the material of his baby doll drag over his heated skin.

“Hard not to be when I just did that to you,” Takahiro says with a shrug, laughing when Issei playfully smacks his arm. He sits back on his heels, feeling Issei’s chest expand and contract with his breathing. His dick is still flushed red and aching, pushing at the satin, and it’s driving him crazy. Takahiro leans forward to kiss Issei, trapping his dick between their bodies, rutting against his abs while Issei nips at his lips. The friction is delicious and sends sparks up his spine, and he wants _more_. With each rock of his hips, the material slides a further down his dick and he’s just smearing precome against Issei’s abs with soft mewls.

Issei starts to come back to his senses, touching Takahiro’s face, shoulders, then tracing down the deep V of lace down his chest. He stops to thumb at Takahiro’s nipples, smirking lazily at the pleasure clearly showing on Takahiro’s face.

“Hurry up and get hard again,” he whines at Issei, who laughs from the heart.

“With you looking this incredible? It shouldn’t take too long.” Issei’s hand trails downward and beneath the draped fabric to touch the satin over Takahiro’s dick reverently, tracing the seams, then moving to stroke his abs. Takahiro shivers, arching into the calloused hand, and reaches back to curl his fingers around Issei’s dick. He’s still pretty soft, but there’s definite interest.

“Pass me the lube, you’re closer,” Takahiro says, miming reaching for the drawer without putting a shade of effort in. He just rolls his hips lazily, teasing himself with the gentle friction. Issei, thanks to his long limbs, grabs the bottle and hands it to Takahiro with a flourish.

“For you.”

“Thank you, kind sir. I guess you’ve earned yourself a reward!”

“You’re too kind,” Issei says, and to anyone else, it would sound casual, but Takahiro catches the little hitches in his breathing. One of Issei’s favourite things is watching Takahiro finger himself, and Takahiro is more than happy to deliver. He gets off on seeing the barely-restrained lust in Issei’s eyes.

He should have let the lube warm for a second, but he’s getting impatient, and gives himself absolutely no time before circling a finger around his rim. Takahiro shivers, biting his lip, but still manages to level his sultriest gaze at Issei and reap the benefits.

He shoves the panties aside, and the first finger slides in without much resistance. Takahiro’s body immediately reacts to the familiar intrusion. He sighs Issei’s name, starting long thrusts of his finger, rolling his hips back, fucking himself on it slowly but deliberately. He’s leaning forward to accommodate the angle and resting one hand on Issei’s chest for support.

Issei’s watching him breathlessly, kneading his thighs, snaking a hand into Takahiro’s panties to stroke his dick. He’s already so slick with precome that each stroke is a jolt of electricity up his spine.

“Stop, Issei, stop.” The words tumble out his mouth, wanting this to last. Issei is too familiar with the way Takahiro likes to be touched for this to drag on; if he’s left to his own devices, Takahiro would come in no time at all.

Issei arches an amused eyebrow. “Bad?”

“No, and you know it. Fuck,” Takahiro says, easing in a second finger now that he’s looser. It’s such a perfect stretch, and he gives himself a moment before scissoring his fingers to hurry it along. Issei, for a lack of dick to touch, settles his large hands on Takahiro’s ass, guiding the rocking of his hips. He smacks a cheek again and Takahiro makes a sound falling somewhere between a yelp and a moan. Takahiro’s fingers work in and out, cramping a little from the awkward angle, but it feels too good to stop. His eyes have fluttered closed, letting him get completely absorbed on the drag of his fingers and Issei’s tensing muscles between his thighs.

The third finger is when Takahiro starts losing control. Issei’s hands knead his ass, helping spread Takahiro further, shifting his body down with each motion of his hips. He only notices he’s moved when he feels the satin bunching in places it shouldn’t be, and the nudge of Issei’s very prominent erection against his ass.

“Oh,” Takahiro says, opening his eyes with a flutter. The ravenous look that Issei is giving him punches the air out of his lungs, and sends a spark straight to the molten heat low in his belly. Takahiro reaches back again and yeah, Issei is good to go again.

“Condom?”

“Yeah.”

Issei had already taken one out, probably when he grabbed the lube, and hands it to Takahiro. It takes some effort to withdraw his fingers, though his fumbling over the condom distracts from the feeling of emptiness.

“Ugh, my fingers are too slippery, you open it,” Takahiro mutters, handing it back. The packet is smeared with lube and Issei chuckles as he too struggles to get the damn thing open. His laughter shakes Takahiro, which would be charming if he weren’t so ready to ride Issei into the fucking sunset.

Not a moment too soon, Issei works his magic on the package and Takahiro turns awkwardly to roll it on. He grabs some more lube to make a sloppy mess of Issei’s dick, pushes his panties to the side again, and lines himself up. He could moan obscenely just at the feeling of Issei’s dick nudging against his rim, so he does, then sinks down slowly.

Nothing in the world feels as good as the push-and-pull stretch and pleasure from being split open by Issei. Takahiro takes it slowly, reveling in the feeling, and braces himself by leaning back on Issei’s thighs. Issei’s groan is ambrosia, deep and so, so satisfying as he bottoms out. He can’t seem to decide which part of Takahiro he’d rather touch, so his fingers flutter from place to place, leaving gentle tingling in their wake.

Takahiro gives himself a moment to adjust, and to get a look at the way Issei’s jaw goes slack from the pressure. He reaches up to grab the loose ends of the ribbons around Takahiro’s neck and tugs him down, meeting him halfway in bruising kiss that is more or less on target. It’s feverish and rough and Takahiro really needs to consider wearing the neck ribbon more often. Issei’s still hanging onto it, not pulling, but very clearly indicating that this is where he wants Takahiro to be for now. Takahiro’s arms wind around Issei’s neck, parting his lips with his tongue to deepen their kisses, though he can’t keep his hips steady as he does. He rolls them, and Issei swallows Takahiro’s satisfied groan, running his fingers up his spine.

It’s Takahiro who pulls back first with a wicked grin and pushes Issei back onto the bed. Issei’s pupils blow and he grabs Takahiro’s hips to brace himself. With a playful wink, Takahiro lifts up, lowering himself back down at an excruciating pace.

“You’re a _demon_ ,” Issei huffs, pressing his fingers deeper into Takahiro’s hips.

Takahiro speeds up his pace, but only a little. “You love it.”

“Absolutely,” Issei clarifies, voice strained.

“Good.” Takahiro is fucking himself on Issei in earnest now, fast and deliberate, tipping his hips to get some friction against his prostate. He curses loudly when he finds it, that perfect angle, and chases after each pleasurable drag. Takahiro is getting messier, less concerned about looking good as he feels the tension in his muscles mounting. Each thrust makes him cry out, his dick bouncing against Issei’s abs. The panties are bunched up and out of the way, probably coming off, but who _cares_ when that molten heat is gathering in the pit of his belly, and Issei’s stumbling over the syllables of his name.

“Fuck, _Issei_ ,” Takahiro moans when Issei starts thrusting up into him in earnest, filling him up over and over as Takahiro slams down to meet him. It’s maddeningly good, and Takahiro’s sweating from the effort, thigh muscles screaming from the effort, but he’s much too gone to really think.

He’s starting to tingle all over and he’s so close that his movements are losing rhythm and becoming erratic. One of Issei’s hands loosens its grip on his hip and curls around Takahiro’s dick instead. Takahiro wants to protest, but _fuck_ , that’s what he wants, especially when Issei starts stroking.

“Come on, Taka, let go,” Issei pants, and his voice is heavy with desperation. He’s probably holding back for Takahiro, waiting for him to come first, the considerate bastard.

It takes a few more erratic thrusts and sloppy strokes and all that coiled tension suddenly snaps, and Takahiro is blinded by the force of his orgasm. He’s caught between and moaning and sobbing when Issei keeps thrusting into him, toeing the line of oversensitivity while he chases his own completion.

“Issei,” Takahiro gasps, pushing his protesting muscles to keep riding him until he comes too, mouth falling open with a groan. He’s so gorgeous, flushed and breathing heavily as his whole body goes boneless and sinks into the sheets. Takahiro finally lets himself flop over onto Issei’s chest, exhausted and deeply satisfied. All his nerves tingle pleasantly, and he can nearly forget that he’s now lying down on a come-streaked mesh baby doll.

Takahiro feels empty once Issei pulls out, and grumbles to let his feelings be known. Issei wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head.

“Not a bad night, huh?” Takahiro says, blinking sleepily. He tips his chin up to silently demand kisses and is rewarded for his efforts.

“Not at all. You, uh,” Issei starts, pinching some satin between his fingers. “Can you get come out of satin? Or mesh, for that matter?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“I guess we will. Here, let me just go get rid of the condom.”

Takahiro clings to Issei’s warm body and shakes his head. “Nnno.”

“You’re gonna be so gross, come on, you lump.”

Begrudgingly, Takahiro lets Issei wriggle out, and makes a point of pouting the whole time he’s gone. He pushes his lower lip out as much as he can while Issei walks back towards him, now carrying a wet cloth. As much as he is a fan of being overdramatic, his facade breaks when he catches the adoring look on Issei’s face. Takahiro rolls onto his back and makes grabby motions at Issei, beckoning him over.

“I’m coming,” he says, bending to kiss Takahiro gently. He cleans up the mess of come and lube from his stomach and thighs, then helps him out of the dirty baby doll. The panties are twisted and barely even on anymore, but Issei carefully unties them and adds them to the pile.

“I was supposed to spoil _you_ tonight,” Takahiro says, stretching his arms over his head with a relaxed smile.

“Mm, you did, though,” Issei murmurs, nuzzling Takahiro’s neck as he gets back into bed. “That was incredible.”

“‘M glad.” With a sigh, Takahiro settles into Issei’s embrace and drags the sheet over them. It fails terribly since they’re weighing it down, but they dissolve into sleepy laughter while they figure out a way to get into the dirty sheets. They’ll deal with laundry tomorrow.

“Comfortable?”

“Very,” Takahiro answers, cuddling closer. There’s a pleasant ache in his muscles and a warmth in his chest that just won’t quit. He smiles broadly against Issei’s shoulder.

Issei yawns spectacularly, then says, “I love you, you minx.”

“I love you, too.”

And, happily exhausted, they fall asleep before nine p.m. again.


End file.
